COLONEL. Excitable little thing. You don't understand her, Peachey.
MISS BEECH. Don't I?
COLONEL. She's all affection. Eh, Molly? I remember what I was like at her age, a poor affectionate little rat, and now look at me!
MISS BEECH. [Fanning herself.] I see you.
COLONEL. [A little sadly.] We forget what we were like when we were young. She's been looking forward to to-night ever since you wrote; and now to have to go to bed and miss the dancing. Too bad!
MRS. GWYN. Don't, Uncle Tom!
COLONEL. [Patting her hand.] There, there, old girl, don't think about it. She'll be all right tomorrow.
MISS BEECH. If I were her mother I'd soon have her up.
COLONEL. Have her up with that headache! What are you talking about, Peachey?
MISS BEECH. I know a remedy.